


Washington on your side

by violencetomyfeelings



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Canon Era, M/M, Musically and Historically Inaccurate, Power Dynamics, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-18
Updated: 2017-04-18
Packaged: 2018-10-20 12:56:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,293
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10663071
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/violencetomyfeelings/pseuds/violencetomyfeelings
Summary: A private negotiation.





	Washington on your side

A knock on the door and Hamilton is in the room with him. His exhaustion is forgotten. 

'Your excellency, sir.' Hamilton is smiling as he takes him in. If he is unsure of himself after they have hardly spoken in years he hides it. What isn't hidden is the almost predatory gait. Washington knows, has observed over these last days, that his excitement over the proceedings and his ambition to play a part have not gone unnoticed by the other delegates.

He looks good though. His arrogance has always been attractive.

'Hamilton, my dear boy. Come on in. You've been making quite the impression.' Hamilton nods as if it's a compliment, letting the appellation 'boy' slide, Washington notes.

He turns and locks the door. Ah, so it is to be this sort of encounter.

'You know, we haven't been alone together in quite some time, sir.' Hamilton looks him over as he makes his way to him. 'You've aged well, I think.' A bold-faced lie if Washington ever heard one. He raises a brow. Hamilton continues undeterred, 'I hear you are as sprightly as ever.'

'I try to stay active. Help yourself to a drink.' He doesn't rise to offer him one. Billy isn't there to serve them- so much the better. He can read Hamilton's moods and the anticipation is thrumming in his veins already.

He had thought this door closed forever and yet here Hamilton is, looking at him from under long lashes as he pours his glass, bambi eyes belied by the smirk of his lips. 'I met your secretary. A singularly uninteresting man. You used to have better taste.' 

Washington gives him a flat look. 'Would you like to work as my personal secretary, Hamilton?'

Hamilton grimaces in disgust before laughing. 'I must be too old for you now, sir, and surely too much of a nuisance.'

'If my memory still serves me it is you who found me intolerable, and I who am past my prime. You are as desirable as ever.' Hamilton quirks a brow.

'Don't pity yourself sir, it's unattractive. Reports of your intolerability may have been exaggerated.' He pauses, not looking directly at him for once. Washington watches his mouth twitch and listens to his fingers tapping the arm of his chair in smooth arcs. 'And as for your prime,' he resumes smoothly, 'many a man is jealous of your accomplishments, and you've had your share of whores like me.' He says it lightly, and Washington blinks in surprise. Hamilton had always been blunt, but the exact nature of their liaisons had always been a closed subject in conversation, Hamilton being immensely sensitive to any allusion to either affection between them or the more transactional nature of it.

'I'm too expensive for you now, I expect,' Hamilton goes on, leaning in as if he's sharing a secret, 'No longer so quickly impressed by a fancy ball or an introduction. Or, well, you could certainly buy me, but you're far too cheap to do so.'

Washington feels a little affronted. Not to mention impatient with the teasing. 'What is your price then, sir?'

'Today? Nothing,' and he smiles and, straight to the point, slides to his knees. Washington's breath catches. 'Sir,' Hamilton whispers, as he shuffles forward to take his place between Washington's thighs, spread in invitation without his having noticed. Hamilton is as damnably arousing as he ever was as he says, in his husky bedroom voice, 'Consider this a gift from me to you,' His hands are on his thighs now, massaging them sensually. 'On the occasion of your impending... coronation. Or whatever we will be calling it.' 

Hamilton clearly intends to drag this out, but every word and every touch brings fire to his blood. He takes one last sip of his drink to distract himself before putting down his glass. 'We certainly won't be calling it that,' he manages to say.

Hamilton shrugs. 'Sure. Even so, would you like me to call you Your Majesty?' He takes Washington's hand and kisses a knuckle. 'Your Grace?' He nips another. 'Sire? Your Royal Highness? Emperor of America, perhaps?' With this last one he reaches a ring and kisses that. He left out the wedding ring. Washington would never admit to the thrill each title sends through him, but Hamilton surely knows anyway.

Those sinful fingers, meanwhile, are massaging the bulge in his breeches and Washington groans. 'You can call me whatever you please, son, so long as you touch me now.'

'But I am touching you, Your Royal Highness,' he pouts and leans in to mouth the bulge in the fabric before him. Washington goes to unbuckle his own belt but Hamilton again catches his fingers with his teeth and sucks on them, wide eyes never leaving Washington's. He bites, gently. Hamilton has always been so fascinated with his hands. God, he's missed this.

Hamilton releases him once more and sits back on his heels. 'I confess, sir, that I have another motivation,' he says softly, resting his head on Washington's thigh and looking up at him. Washington is a little annoyed at the delay, but Hamilton clearly wants to say this and Washington can see a slither of vulnerability in his gaze and restless fingers are tap-tapping on the floor, so he lets him speak. 'I seek to renew our friendship, if you still want it.'

Washington raises his brows. He unties Hamilton's queue and begins stroking his silky black hair before replying, 'I recall you claiming that such a thing never existed.'

'I lied, sir, to you and to myself,' Hamilton says matter of factually, as if it were the obvious truth that hardly needed to be spoken. Which it was, really, and yet Hamilton had kept his silence for years after. Until now, here, when Washington is once again to be vested in power. An uncharitable interpretation, perhaps. Hamilton does not usually profess what he does not feel. He's still staring up at him, biting his lip, determined and earnest and vulnerable.

'My friendship was always yours even when you did not want it. But it's good to hear you say that.' It is good. But Washington is distracted by Hamilton's reddened lip. He pinches it between his finger and thumb then releases it again. It holds it's shape for a second or two. He wishes Hamilton would save the heavy topics for later and get on with it.

'Yes sir. Thank you,' Hamilton says a little thickly. He closes his eyes for a moment, and Washington wonders. Did he believe Washington would reject him? He pets him again, and then gently tugs at his hair. Hamilton heeds his cue, straightening. His gaze, now, is bright and clear once more as he unbuckles Washington's belt and finally, finally frees his cock and gets down to business, tugging his breeches open with his teeth, smirking once more. 

His first kiss on the tip has Washington's eyes rolling up. There it is, there it is. Hamilton's clever hands move quickly and smoothly over his length, Washington relishes every kiss of his flesh. Hamilton is still in no rush, suckling each ball at a time, giving him long slow licks while massaging his thighs, taking the tip in his mouth only to release it again, stopping to smirk up at him with deliberately wide eyes.

Washington tries to reign in his impatience for more and abandon himself to the sensation, drinking in the sight of Hamilton's debauchery, he may not look a boy anymore but the man at his feet is no less appealing, but his impatience wins out and he runs his fingers through Hamilton's hair again, finding his familiar hold and pulling until Hamilton moans. Hamilton makes as if to touch himself, as well, but Washington growls out a short 'No.' He wants his full attention. 

When Hamilton finally sinks down onto him it's like coming home. He waits there, halfway down. Washington knows this cue and takes it, getting a firmer grip on the hair and pulling him back only to push him right down until the throat around him flutters and nails dig into his thighs. He groans. God, he'd missed this. He pulls him back, let's him take a gasping breath, noting the rapid blinking and red cheeks, before plunging his head down again. Hamilton doesn't resist him as he holds him tight against him and fucks his throat up and down his cock. It's not long before he comes down his throat, on his tongue, finally leaving a trail on his gasping red lips.

He hasn't come like this in a long time.

He leaves his softening cock on Hamilton's tongue as Hamilton breathes heavily around it, looking a little dazed and thoroughly fucked. Washington's grip on his hair loosens and he can't help but smile, now utterly relaxed. 'That was good, my boy. Excellent, excellent,' he says vaguely. Hamilton, breathing more evenly now, snorts around him and slips him out of his mouth. He doesn't attempt to speak yet, instead making to grip his own cock. 

'No,' Washington commands him again. He obeys, looking up at Washington expectantly, lips still dirty. Washington feels eminently lazy and briefly contemplates letting him finish himself off after all, which is always a sight to see, but it hardly seems a day to be lazy about it. 'Clean me up.'

Hamilton licks his own lips before leaning in to gently clean the soft cock. Washington sighs at the sensation and watches him raptly. There's still a few drops of come on his cheek. Done he tucks him away primly and looks up at Washington hungrily. Washington pats his lap.

He winces as he rises, clearly stiff, and then settles comfortably astride his thighs. Washington can feel his ass- less bony now than it used to be. He'll have to try that out sometime. He wipes the last bit of come off Hamilton's cheek and encircles Hamilton's cock, working him in slow, firm strokes. 'God, I missed those hands,' Hamilton groans out, coming apart quickly at his touch. He bites Washington's shoulder through his shirt as he finishes, then slumps into him. 

Catlike, Martha had called him. He could be purring. Washington takes the moment to reacquaint himself, feeling his way around his back, rubbing his belly. There's plumpness there now. 'You feel good, my boy.' Hamilton grumbles a little protest, still too soon after orgasm to speak with his usual eloquence. Washington waits, content. Has another sip of his whiskey.

When Hamilton breaks his silence it's to ask, 'Will you be choosing your cabinet soon, sir?' 

Washington put down his glass again. He's too content to be annoyed, but still. 'I thought you said this time was a gift?'

Hamilton pulls away to look at him, 'I ask because I am curious. You know I don't expect a job for sucking your cock.' His arms are folded. Seated as he is on Washington's lap it looks a little ridiculous, but Washington takes the liberty of holding him in place by gripping his thighs, not ready to relinquish him yet.

'Of course not. Although, you did claim to be more expensive these days. You never said your price.'

Hamilton looks at him warily. 'A negotiation for another time, I think.' He bites his lip. Embarrassed? Washington doesn't know, lets it go.

'Are you interested in working for my administration? I wasn't sure.'

'Not in being your personal secretary.'

'Pity.'

'Who are you considering for Treasury and State?' Hamilton toys with his collar, still close, still intimate.

He considers him. 'I already asked two capable men.'

'Oh.' Hamilton tries not to look crestfallen. Washington sighs.

'Do you want to know why I didn't choose you?' Hamilton looks up rapidly, trying to control his expression. 'That's why. Politics don't play to your strengths, son.'

'Don't call me that.' Hamilton extracts himself from Washington's lap and turns away, pouring himself another glass. His back is taut. Washington has a pang of regret at disturbing the happy cat he had earlier.

'You lack any sort of subtlety. You don't compromise. You take offense easily but readily give insult. You're a bull in a china shop.' Washington watches Hamilton's back bristle with every new word but plows on. Hamilton whirls around, fury and hurt in every line of his face. Washington stands to look down at him like stone. He's not done. 'Politics would eat you alive, son, you're too honest.' 

'Too honest? That is my great fault? So you intend to turn this country we fought for over to the same sort of men who starved our troops while they had plenty, who-'

He reaches and simply grasps Hamilton's mouth shut. It's not the first time. 'Listen. Morris turned down the position of Treasury and you would be my second choice.' He releases Hamilton again as his eyes widen.

'I'm listening,' he says tautly.

'Good. If you are to take this position it is only with the explicit understanding of what it entails. I expect you to practice restraint.' He looks Hamilton over, taking in again his flushed cheeks. 'I could enforce that for you, if necessary.'

'You could, sir,' Hamilton says, baring his teeth in a brief but lewd smile before gritting them to declare, 'but I intend to keep my integrity.' 

Washington sighs. 'Consider this a warning then.' He sits again and looks him over. Standing still but burning with repressed energy. His lips still red and fucked, his hair mussed. Beautiful.

'Consider me warned, sir,' Hamilton says finally. After a moment of hesitation he straddles Washington's thighs once more. Washington pulls him close gratefully and kisses him slowly. 

'I look forward to working with you again, my boy,' he says, and Hamilton smiles.


End file.
